


Kiss with a Fist

by morningham



Series: I’ll crawl home to you [2]
Category: HunterXHunter
Genre: Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Crying During Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningham/pseuds/morningham
Summary: “Aren’t we supposed to fight today?” He counters question with question.“It could’ve waited until you felt better.” Hisoka just stares at him.
Relationships: Hisoka/Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer
Series: I’ll crawl home to you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858921
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	Kiss with a Fist

**Author's Note:**

> title is from florence + the machine because i mean... what better to describe these two? >:D 
> 
> if you’d like to follow the story allow me to direct you to the first work in the series- tonight the hunt, tomorrow the feast

Chrollo had expected a lot of things. An empty bed was second highest on the list. The first being him hovering over his body lying prone and lifeless in his bed. Hiskoa was anything but predictable, but he did keep his promises. He hadn’t expected to be awoken by Hisoka swallowing him down, head bobbing rhythmically under silk sheets. Chrollo thinks he’s still dreaming possibly, until he twists and his entire body throbs in pain. The pain soon ebbs, reduced to a warm, heady pleasure, and Chrollo gasps through, ribs aching. Hisoka resurfaces, eyes shining far too brightly for early morning. He lies back next to Chrollo, pokes absently at one of the purplish bruises on his shoulder.

“Good morning Danchou.” The magician grins wickedly, dragging his thumb through the cum on the corner of his mouth and sucking it into his mouth. Chrollo thinks he really is depraved, but he feels his cock twitch and it isn’t all that bad.

“Good morning, Hisoka.” He rolls achingly onto his side, fumbling for the ointment he keeps near the bed, popping the cap and soothing it over the bruises forming on his thighs. Hisoka swirls it over one of the open scratches, just to hear him hiss in pain, before swinging his legs absently over the side of the bed. 

“Are you hungry?” 

“I thought you said you were going to kill me in the morning.” Chrollo blurts out, because breakfast most  _ certainly  _ was not on the list. Hisoka peers at him, eyes lidded,  _ cat like _ , Chrollo thinks to himself. 

“Don’t fuss. I will.” Hisoka drags his nails lightly down Chrollo’s cheek, stopping to pull at his lip. “You should be at full strength first at least. Otherwise it’s no fun for me.” He pouts, as if imagining how easy it would be to kill him in his current state. “What would you like to eat?” 

“I can make something.”

“Allow me. I can return to the spiders with your head and at least tell them I fed you before your unfortunate demise.” Hisoka shrugs into the shirt he’d worn the night before, padding out of the room. Chrollo lays back for a second, contemplates going back to sleep before heaving a sigh and conjuring his book. It takes a moment, but he finds a weak healing spell he’d siphoned from a petulant mage years ago and while he’s still sporting a split lip his body no longer feels like shards of broken glass. He fishes for a clean shirt and boxers before wandering into the kitchen, the smell of eggs smacking him in the face. It’s oddly comforting and domestic, which is a horribly wrong tone for the situation, he decides. Chrollo decides to ignore the feeling of nausea settling in his gut and sits to wait for his eggs.

Hisoka slides him a plate before slouching into a chair opposite, peering at him. “What?” 

“Did you rid yourself of my handiwork?” 

“Mostly.” Chrollo chews carefully, tongue probing for shards of eggshell or broken glass. 

“Why?” Hisoka sounds genuinely confused, as if he simply cannot fathom why Chrollo wouldn’t want to feel as though he’s just been mowed over by a truck. 

“Aren’t we supposed to fight today?” He counters question with question. 

“It could’ve waited until you felt better.” Hisoka just stares at him, a long pause, until the silence becomes nearly uncomfortable. Neither of them look away, a silent tug of war for the upper hand, and Hisoka drags the plate of eggs to himself and blinks languidly, swallowing them down. The way the magician can stare so long without blinking is extremely unsettling, and Chrollo glares down at the table. 

Hisoka seems pleased at this. “Will you be returning to your spiders today?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wonderful. I shall accompany you.” 

“There’s really no need-“ Chrollo starts, brain flashing images of Hisoka peeling the fake tattoo off his back and grinning fiendishly, nen roaring red like his hair. 

“Nonsense. Besides.” Hisoka rotates his shoulder, feigning discomfort. “Matchi always takes  _ such  _ good care of me.” He stands, snatching the plate and the utensils with him. “Get dressed.” Chrollo opens his mouth to snap back, abruptly shuts it when he realizes he has no good witty retort and slinks off to do as he’s told. 

His head is throbbing mercilessly the entire trip to the hideout, a relentless drumming on his temple, and it takes all his effort to continually focus on smacking Hisoka’s nimble fingers away from his crotch the entire time. The magician giggles every time, melodic and  _ cute _ , but this is  _ Hisoka,  _ Chrollo reminds himself, and ignores him best he can. This proves to be a ridiculous difficult task and Chrollo halfheartedly wishes for a brief moment that Hisoka would cut the foreplay and rip his heart out of his chest already. Chrollo pays the fare for the cab, silently slinking towards the rows of skyscrapers looming in the Yorknew fog. 

“Are you nervous?” Hisoka trails a nail up his spine until he shudders him away. 

“Why would I be.” Chrollo snaps, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. He is nervous- something he didn’t feel like letting Hisoka gloat over. It’s been close to a year since he’s seen his crew, no contact- per the chain user’s curse- and he knows how loyal they are. He also knows the terms and conditions he’d set if he was to die. In their line of work, his absence was mourned and a new leader was appointed. 

“You are.” Chrollo ignores his gleeful realization, walking faster. “You’re  _ scared. _ ” 

He wheels and without second thought, connects his fist to Hisoka’s perfect jaw. The loud crack makes him feel better for a millisecond, until Hisoka blinks at him, tongue poking out to lap at the blood on his lip. Hisoka lunges, kicking him swiftly in the ribs and he might’ve miscalculated- again- the sheer strength the magician possessed, even without Nen. He lies panting in the dirt for a moment until his opponent advances again, nimbly dodges a swing and sweeps Hisoka’s legs, sending him falling to the ground next to him. Neither of them speak, silently assessing, and Chrollo goes on offense, conjuring his book. Hisoka slaps it shut before he can get a spell off properly, slamming him back against a wall, hands wrapped around his throat. His head cracks against the stone and he can feel the blood starting to trickle down into his hair, Hisoka smiling softly. 

“As much as I do so love when you’re compliant, this is what I came so far for, Chrollo.” Hisoka squeezes his throat tighter, and he can’t breathe, choking around the fingers digging into his windpipe. He feebly claws at Hisoka’s cheek, scratches hard enough that the hands at his throat loosen as Hisoka startles at the blood running rivulets down his face. 

“Just shut up.” Chrollo punches him again, square in the nose, hard enough to gain purchase and shove off the wall. Neither of them attempt to conjure their Nen, settling for a physical fight. It’s more evenly matched than Chrollo would’ve thought, Hisoka is nimble enough to dodge any serious blows, but he shows signs of tiring. Hisoka pauses, teeth shining with blood, and he slowly advances, predatory. There’s a shift, Chrollo feels it in the air. He backs, keeping a sizable distance, and Hisoka just watches him. 

“Do you feel better?” His voice is a low growl, a tinge of irritation but Chrollo senses no real malice. Again, it’s terribly off for the situation. 

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t. “Not really, no.” His head hurts worse than before, a dull throbbing now a roaring pain, and he’s taken worse, but  _ this  _ feels more personal. 

“Hm.” Hisoka edges him into the wall again, fingers trailing his arms, making no moves to go for his throat, but Chrollo knows who he’s really dealing with, and Hisoka isn’t quite finished. “Why are you scared? Don’t  _ deny  _ it again, I can taste it. It’s enveloping your aura and under different circumstances-“ Hisoka pauses, fingers probing into the dip of his collarbone, brushing his hair back. “-I’d be enticed by it.”

“Why aren’t you now?” 

“I don’t think you’re in a position to be asking me questions, Chrollo.” Nimble fingers slip down, up under his shirt, bitingly cold. 

“We have a code.” 

“I’m well aware of it.” 

“I don’t deserve to see them.” Chrollo sighs, feeling terribly vulnerable. He supposes when the man that’s been hunting him for years is currently playing the piano on his rib cage as if he’s selecting the right one there’s worse things than honesty. 

“Then why return?” 

Chrollo locks eyes with the magician again, who is looking at him like an unsolvable puzzle. He thinks in black and white, Chrollo knows. Driven solely by the need to take life and spare it. Chrollo has done his fair share of killing, and he understands that thrill. But he sees things in hues of grey. 

“I-I don’t know.” 

“Think about it, won’t you? I would truly love an answer.” Hisoka blinks finally, closing the space to kiss him, softly, dirt and blood invading his taste buds. Chrollo lets him, feels fingers carding through his hair and half expects Hisoka to flip him and slam him face first against the brick wall. He tenses, waits for it, and Hisoka stops kissing him.

“I’m done fighting you today. Maybe tomorrow, as you said.” He pauses, waiting for Chrollo’s reaction. He feels the relief loosen his body, pulling the magician back to him. Hisoka kisses him leisurely, like they have all the time in the world and they’re not standing in a back alley, blood mixing with sweat. Chrollo can feel Hisoka biting down his neck, little nibbles, highly unlikely to leave a bruise, and he works at his shirt, pushing it back off his shoulders. Hisoka grinds against him, working his slacks down off his hips. Chrollo stands there a moment, letting him wrestle down the pant legs until his brain finally tells him to help. He laughs a little as Hisoka finally gets them off, and thinks the smack he’s going to receive will be worth it, but Hisoka just laughs too, low and rumbling in his chest, and they stand there, flush, laughing like children. 

“Why are you laughing?” Chrollo can feel fingers trailing the backs of his thighs, squeezing the muscle there. 

“It was contagious.” 

“Is that so?” He tilts his head, teasing, and Hisoka shoves a finger in and crooks until he’s gasping like a whore against the stone.

Hisoka laughs a little again. “What was it you said earlier?  _ ‘Just shut up?’”  _ Hisoka strokes his cock once, locking eyes. Chrollo whines, scrapes down Hisoka’s back and he removes his finger, slowly pushing into him. The burn is greater than he’d anticipated, and he supposed between the two of them it couldn’t be all sunshine and roses. Hisoka stills, grabbing one of Chrollo’s legs from the ground and yanking it to rest at his hip. He watches for the slightest change in Chrollo’s expression before pulling back and thrusting up again, slow. Chrollo is a crying, sniveling mess after several minutes, wanting  _ more _ , and Hisoka just keeps his pace, torturously slow, thumbing the tears away from Chrollo’s cheeks. 

“Have you decided why you’ve come back to your troupe yet, Chrollo?” Hisoka whispers against his neck, biting again, and Chrollo really hates speaking during this, his brain solely focused on the need to come. “If you tell me I’ll let you finish.” The magician purrs. He stills, buried deep, and Chrollo chokes back another sob. 

“They’re my family.” He says the first reason that comes to mind, and perhaps he’d be surprised at his own sentiment toward his band of thieves if he had half a mind to think about it. Hisoka seems satisfied, speeding up his pace enough to hit Chrollo’s prostate with every thrust. 

“Good boy.” Hisoka kisses him and Chrollo is quite literally seeing stars, barely conscious as Hisoka moans against him and stills,  _ finally.  _

“Are you ready?” Hisoka asks him, though it’s more of a suggestion, once they’ve made themselves presentable. He isn’t, or he’s not sure that he is, but nods anyways. “Go on.” Hisoka shoves him lightly. He stumbles in the direction of the hideout, and  _ what if they’d moved on?  _ He can’t feel Hisoka beside him, knows he’s not going to follow. 

The door is heavier than he remembers, but of course swings open to his touch. The air inside is damp, and he collects himself, striding forward. 

“Hello, spiders.” Thirteen pairs of eyes raise to meet him. It’s good to be home. 

**Author's Note:**

> as always, feel free to say hi or send in prompts to @morningham on the tumblr 
> 
> i thrive on ze feedback!! so leave comments, questions, concerns! <3 thank you for reading


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